


What You Need

by thegreatpumpkin



Series: A Heart Can't Be Helped [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Twincest, handjobs, psychic twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/thegreatpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrohir didn’t remember camping being this unpleasant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiveOakWithMoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIVEOAK. It was supposed to be porny fluff (or fluffy porn?) but then...this happened instead. 
> 
> For those not in the know, this is set in the same AU as _Nights and Weekends_.

The tent was new and smelled vaguely chemical. They could have borrowed the family tent, of course, but it probably smelled like the attic where it had been stored for the last several years—and besides, it was huge, and probably required the exacting mind of someone like their father to assemble properly. Elladan had barely had the patience for this one, which supposedly took five minutes of setup (Elrohir estimated it was more like fifteen with his brother involved in the process).

Elrohir didn’t remember camping being this unpleasant. Maybe it hadn’t been; for starters, when they’d been younger, their parents had taken care of the tent while he and Elladan and Arwen went looking for interesting rocks or chased birds or climbed trees. They’d been shorter then too—now if he stretched out full-length, his head and feet both touched the tent walls. There was no room for anything but the two of them in the tent, and even then it was a bit of a stretch.

On the other hand, Elladan had finally let him settle into his book for the first time all day. Elladan could normally occupy himself when Elrohir wanted quiet, but he found silence unbearable while he was driving and had spent the day prompting his brother for conversation every time he so much as glanced at the book. Elrohir, still feeling slightly guilty after being away for so long, had humored him; but he was relieved when—once the tent was staked and their dinner spread out on the weathered picnic table—Elladan had gotten absorbed in his phone and at last allowed a comfortable silence to reign. (It was a little surprising he got a signal out here, especially considering they'd chosen a spot that was as far away from other campers as possible, but maybe there was a tower somewhere close by.)

He was probably answering work emails, because he couldn’t help himself. Their father would have done the same, if emails—and devices to answer them in the middle of the woods—had existed during their family camping trips of old. Elrohir let him, for now, though he told himself he’d put a stop to it if Elladan started stressing over what was happening while he was gone. For the moment he seemed at peace, so Elrohir left him alone.

Dinner over, they withdrew to the tent to escape the mosquitoes. Elrohir read for awhile by the light of the lantern, at least until he got tired of trying to find a position that didn’t cast a shadow on his book. Elladan had curled up on top of his sleeping bag, still focused on his phone; he’d kicked his shoes into the corner and stripped off his shirt in the stuffy heat of the tent. Elrohir tucked the book beneath his pillow—there was literally nowhere else to put it—and moved up behind Elladan, draping an arm over his waist.

If what Elladan needed was the sound of his voice, what Elrohir needed was touch. It wasn’t a difficult need to fill, usually. Affectionate scuffles were normal enough for them, and Elladan was generally patient about being leaned against or used as an armrest. A long drive wasn’t ideal for any of it, though. Once they’d gotten out of the city and Elladan wasn’t having to shift gears all the time, he’d curled their fingers loosely together, which Elladan allowed, but that was all. When he’d reached across later to finger the hair at the nape of Elladan’s neck—it needed cutting, and he’d said so—Elladan had ducked away, laughing.

“Could you not do that while I’m driving?”

“Are you really _that_ ticklish?” To be fair, he usually used that against him, but just now he was annoyed about it.

Elladan had glanced sideways at him in a way that said something different entirely, but all he’d said aloud was, “Yes. Stop it,” before returning his eyes to the road.

So Elrohir was more than a little cross when, here in the tent, Elladan made a discontented sound in his throat and pushed his arm away. “Don’t, Ro, it’s way too hot. How are you not melting?”

He rolled onto his back and crossed his arms over his chest. It wasn’t normally in him to sulk, but things were—tentative between them right now. He’d been home for less than a month, and they were still feeling things out, making sure it was all still the way it had been before. He’d talked himself hoarse today giving the reassurance his brother needed; it felt a little unfair not to be reciprocated.

Whether he felt the storm brewing or merely sensed it from the silence, Elladan realized his mistake quickly. He put his phone down and turned to look at Elrohir, gentling his tone some. “Aren’t you hot? It’s miserable. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

It _was_ hot, of course, but Elrohir _wanted_ more than he _minded_. He let the silence hang.

Elladan sighed and reached across, stroking his fingers through Elrohir’s hair. Elrohir turned his head into the touch, though he was still less than satisfied. “Hang on,” he murmured after a moment, sitting up to unzip the tent flap and climbing (somewhat ungracefully) out into the night.

The cooler was where they’d left it on the picnic bench, and he dug into it with malicious intent. “Grab me something, will you?” Elladan said, at the sound of shifting ice.

“Sure.” Elrohir kept the grin out of his voice. Two fistfuls of ice probably weren’t the _something_ he was asking for, but they were the something he was going to get. He punched the cooler closed with his elbow and ducked back inside. “This should help.”

He dropped the ice directly on Elladan’s bare stomach; the resulting shout was _deeply_ gratifying. More gratifying still when his brother tackled him, even if it was only to scoop ice into his hair and down the back of his shirt in retaliation. Ice went everywhere as they scuffled, soaking little circles on the sleeping bags as it melted—they were both too busy laughing and trying to freeze the other to mind. The struggle only ended when there was no ice left to fight it with.

Elladan dropped down to rest his head against Elrohir’s shoulder, wiping his wet palm off on Elrohir’s forehead. “Jerk.”

Elrohir let him. “It helped though, didn’t it?” Their faces were too close together, noses nearly bumping; after a long, charged moment Elrohir brought a hand up to finger the hair at the nape of Elladan’s neck. Elladan’s breath hitched.

“ _Ticklish_ , huh?”

“Shut up,” Elladan breathed, closing his eyes and leaning in, resting his forehead against Elrohir’s damp one. Elrohir smiled and raked his nails lightly; Elladan shifted just the tiniest bit, a motion restrained before it was fully realized.

“You’re so easily...tickled,” Elrohir said, laughing low in his throat.

“Fuck off,” Elladan murmured, entirely without venom, and further undermined by the fact that he spoke the words very nearly against Elrohir’s mouth.

On one hand, Elrohir was sorely tempted to let this go precisely the direction it was headed. On the other, he was still in a bit of a wicked mood, and his free hand had landed by chance on one last piece of unmelted ice...he couldn’t help himself. He lifted his hand as if to stroke Elladan’s cheek, but opened it at the last moment to press the ice against the side of his neck, laughing as Elladan jerked and swore.

“I will _murder_ you, Elrohir, I swear—justified fratricide—you little—” They struggled again for a moment, Elrohir laughing gleefully as Elladan cursed him, but it was not much of a contest. Elladan got him by the wrists and held him there, sitting low on his thighs to keep him pinned down. If there had been any ice left, he would certainly have gotten a faceful of it. Instead, Elladan bent low over him; Elrohir tipped his head back expectantly, closing his eyes as he stretched up to meet him.

And then...nothing. Elladan sat back before their mouths met, dropping his hold on Elrohir’s wrists. Elrohir made a short, sharp sound of frustration, catching his brother by the back of the neck to pull him down again, but Elladan resisted.

“We should—Ro, we should talk about this.”

Elrohir sighed and let his hands fall. “Should we? I don’t have that much to say.”  
  
“Fine, I’ll talk then. You can just...make rude gestures or whatever it is you do.” Elladan’s mouth twisted slightly before he regained his serious expression. “We...can’t go back from this. If we—there’s no undoing it.”

Elrohir sat up, supporting himself with one hand while the other spidered its way gently up the outside of Elladan’s thigh. “So you just brought me out here to appreciate the scenery, then?”

He could feel Elladan’s sigh before he drew breath, and the smile behind it. “You are such a trial.”

He wrapped his arm around Elladan’s waist and tugged him forward into his lap. “Look who’s talking.” He leaned in to speak against Elladan’s ear, his tone both seductive and tender. “What exactly are you imagining we could go back _to?_ When I was fifteen and I used to wait till you were asleep to jerk off because I was afraid you’d know I was thinking about you while I did it? The first time we realized we could _share_ somebody, because everyone has a secret fantasy of fucking identical twins? All those times on the phone when you got off to the sound of my voice?”

“It was just the one time—”

“It was _not_ ,” Elrohir breathed, “just the one time and you know it.” Elladan felt like a coiled spring at the edge of his consciousness, barely-restrained energy—the trick was releasing him. Elrohir raised his hand to the nape of Elladan’s neck again, stroking the hair there, and Elladan shuddered. “I’m not conflicted about it, Elladan. I don’t just want you, I _need_ you, and I think that you need me too—” _yes,_ said Elladan, a feeling more than a word — “There’s nothing to go _back_ to. There was never anything else.”

 _I had to be sure._ Elladan tugged the tie out of Elrohir’s ponytail and wrapped the hair around his fist, bringing their mouths together.

They had kissed before; one frantic stupid time the summer after high school (immediately followed by the worst fight they’d ever had, before or since), and more than once for the edification of some slightly inebriated prettyboy they hoped to take home later (that was tricky—getting into it enough to turn on the target, without getting so into it that they gave themselves away). This was entirely different; unwatched, unhurried, _long_ -awaited. _This_ was what Elrohir needed—touch, contact, affection. His supporting arm came up to hold Elladan and they toppled, heedless, back onto the sleeping bag.

For a long time, there was only that: long, slow, intense kisses; Elrohir’s fingers tracing the knobs of Elladan’s spine and the ridges of his shoulderblades; one of Elladan’s hands cradling Elrohir’s head and the other stroking featherlight along his throat down to the edge of his collar. It was—as always—Elrohir who shifted the tone first, catching the belt loops at the back of Elladan’s jeans and pressing his hips down. Elladan’s response was unvoiced but emphatic— _!_ —a wave of warmth that echoed between them.

They never needed to talk to communicate, but Elrohir knew Elladan liked it, and he was feeling more than generous now. He broke away from the kiss, his grin sharp. “Pin me down again, I liked that. Or on second thought, wait, let me get out of my shirt first—”

Elladan didn’t give him the chance, sitting back in a way that made Elrohir groan and yanking the shirt off of him. He caught Elrohir’s wrists again, pressing them down on either side of his head, then bent low to let his weight hold them down as they kissed. Elrohir couldn’t keep quiet and didn’t try, making little eager sounds in the back of his throat, lifting his hips until Elladan growled and shifted to hold him down more firmly. Which was, given the little flare of satisfaction that came in response, _exactly_ what he wanted.

Elladan’s lips moved to his neck and he tipped his head back eagerly. “Careful,” he murmured breathlessly, when Elladan lingered too long at the base of his throat.

 _Why? No one will know where you got it._ Elladan didn’t bother letting go to reply, rocking his hips slowly as he sucked at the skin. It lit a fire in Elrohir, even more than before—Elladan was usually so cautious with the things he said, trying not to cross some line that Elrohir couldn't see. But he hadn't been lately—not since that phone call before Elrohir had moved back home.

“You think? It’s going to be written all over your face every time you _look_ at me—” Elrohir broke off in a moan, closing his eyes like a cat being stroked. “Please, Elladan—”

“No.”

“What?” His eyes flicked open; Elladan was propped up over him again, grinning down at him.

“I said, no. You’re going to wait. It builds character.” He laughed at Elrohir’s indignant expression. “Also, it is a million fucking degrees in this tent and it’s only going to get worse. So you’re going to wait while I do something about it.” He shifted back a little, taking the weight off his hands, tapping Elrohir’s wrists as he released them. “Leave these here.”

“Or you’ll do what?” Elrohir asked, intrigued.

“Test me and find out.” Elladan rolled away—not very _far_ away, there wasn’t room—and undid the tent flap, zipping the screen across the opening to keep out the mosquitos. Even Elrohir had to admit the slight breeze it let in was a godsend; the sleeping bag beneath his back was already damp with sweat.

Still, Elrohir was short on patience tonight, and besides _test me and find out_ was an almost irresistible challenge (even if, as he suspected, it was only a bluff). Sinuous as a cat, he rolled to his knees and wrapped himself around his brother from behind, getting Elladan’s fly open almost before he realized what was happening.

“I thought I told you to keep your hands—” Elladan broke off, losing his train of thought, as Elrohir curled a hand firmly around his cock and began stroking slowly.

“Right where they are?”

“Yes. That is— _ah_ —definitely what I said.”  His head fell back onto Elrohir’s shoulder and he flexed his hips forward into the touch, eagerly. He laughed, a little breathlessly— “We are _so_ going to hell. You know that, right?”

Elrohir kissed his temple, mouthed the sharp line of his cheekbone, splayed the fingers of his free hand out over Elladan’s chest and held him close. Elladan melted back against him, and he dropped his voice low and soft to murmur against his ear. “Hush, you love it. If I started talking about how inappropriate this is, you’d be done for in a second.” Elladan flushed but didn’t argue the point, and he went on warmly. “I know what you like. I know what you _need_ , brother mine, better than anyone else ever will.”

In another moment Elladan would have pushed him down and had his way with him, but just then a chiming startled them both—Elladan’s phone.

“Ignore it,” Elrohir murmured. Elladan had lifted his head, though, and made as if to reach for it— “ _Ignore it,_ ” he said again, more firmly this time, his grip tightening just slightly on Elladan’s cock. Elladan obeyed, though he didn’t completely relax again until the phone stopped ringing.

He had just started to arch into the touch again, making quiet noises in the back of his throat, when Elrohir’s phone—forgotten in his back pocket—went off. Elrohir swore; Elladan, recognizing the ringtone, went rigid in his arms. Elrohir took a moment to compose himself before answering it.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?” He rubbed a hand over Elladan’s back, trying to soothe him, but Elladan ducked away. _Don’t_.

“Sorry to bother you on vacation, Rohir. I called your brother first but he must have let his phone die again.”

“Yeah, probably. Did you need him?”

“Just for a minute. My wireless router is acting up again, I forget what he had me do last time.”

Elrohir closed his eyes, held the phone away from his ear for a moment, and took a deep breath before bringing it back. “Yeah, okay. I’ll hand him the phone.”

Elladan took it. Elrohir waited impatiently while he played Tech Support—when it became apparent it might be a long conversation, he sighed and curled up, resting his head on Elladan’s knee. Elladan was still tense, but not quite as much as he had been; after a moment he dropped a hand to stroke Elrohir’s hair with distracted affection. It was less than Elrohir wanted, but more than he was likely to get if he pushed, so he lay still and tried to be patient.

He was half-drowsing before the problem was solved. “Yeah, we’ll call when we get to Yellowstone. Night, Dad.” Elladan hung up and handed the phone back to Elrohir, who switched it to silent and chucked it unceremoniously to the far corner of the tent.

He sat up, intending to twine himself around his brother again; but Elladan twisted away from him, holding up a hand between them. “ _Ro._ Remember what he was like when we were growing up?” Elrohir gave him a blank look, uncomprehending. “He _always_ knew when we were up to something.”

He realized, suddenly, that underneath Elladan’s tension was a thread of fear.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Elrohir sent back reassurance, calm, and dared to reach out a hand that was not pushed away when he laid it soothingly on Elladan’s shoulder. “It was a coincidence. Do you really think if he had any idea, he’d be calling about his _router_?”

“Think about it, though. Was that really so urgent he had to call _you_ to get to me?”

Elrohir didn’t share his concern. “This _is_ Dad we’re talking about. It probably didn’t occur to him that it had to be urgent, he just wanted something and knew calling me was the easiest way to get ahold of you. If he knew, there’s no way he could have sounded so normal.”

“Just because he doesn’t know _specifically_ what we’re up to doesn’t mean he didn’t call to check up on us.” Elladan leaned into him, and Elrohir’s arms went around him automatically. He let himself be held for a moment, but nothing more, still on edge. “I—can’t, Ro, I can’t. I thought I could, but—” he shook his head, withdrawing again, and Elrohir let him go. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Elrohir withdrew too, collecting his shirt from where it had landed and pulling it on over his head.

_Elrohir—_

“Elladan, it’s fine,” he said again, more gently. It wasn’t, but he didn’t need to take that out on Elladan. “But I’m going to bed. Do you want me to leave the lantern on?” He zipped the tent door closed again, then kicked off his jeans, stretching out on top of his sleeping bag.

Elladan shook his head, then reached to switch it off himself. Elrohir curled up on his side, facing the tent wall, and listened to the sounds of Elladan readying himself for bed in the dark. He tried not to think about it; tried to hold himself perfectly still; tried to keep the desperate ache beneath his breastbone and the desire still burning inside his skin from bleeding out to where Elladan could feel it.

It was one thing to want something you knew you couldn’t have. He was used to that, had gotten—well, not _good_ at it. But he’d managed. Wanting something you thought you _could_ have was worse, so much worse—at least when you found out otherwise.

He lay awake in the dark, looking at nothing, and tried to remember how to fall asleep.

Elladan’s breath grew slow and even, eventually. Elrohir relaxed a fraction, though sleep was still far away; just as he began to wonder if he could get up quietly, Elladan shifted in against his back, and he realized he had not been asleep either.

 _I’m sorry_ , he said again, pushing Elrohir’s hair aside to kiss the back of his neck. _It isn’t fine_.

Elrohir sighed, curling his arm over Elladan's when it slid around him, tangling their fingers together. _It is what it is._

 _Come here_. Elladan tugged at him until he rolled over, bringing them face to face in the dark. When their lips met, Elrohir blurred the boundaries between them, sharing it all—the ache and the desire. _There was never anything else_.

 _No_ , Elladan agreed. The thread of fear was still there, but his hands were steady, certain, as he stripped them both. Unfaltering as he laid a palm above Elrohir's tailbone, pressing him closer; firm and warm and gentle as he took them both in hand.

Even as Elrohir gasped and pressed his hips forward, he thought—privately—that it should have been different. They should have been laughing together the way they had earlier, the way they had always done with a shared secret; they should have grinned at one another in the distorted light of the lantern, echoing _finally, finally!_ back and forth between them.

But he would take it this way too, bittersweet and in the dark. Because Elladan breathing his name like an oath was more than he could bear to turn away from; because he was starved for his brother's touch and even a small feast was still a feast; because, truly, there was never anything else for him but this.

Because, at the end of everything—he _wanted_ more than he _minded_.

**Author's Note:**

> For your listening pleasure, allow me to link [the most Elladan song ever](https://youtu.be/IH_4-IhEhBA).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] What You Need](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288795) by [pumpkinpodfic (thegreatpumpkin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/pumpkinpodfic)




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